cold · cruel · ice abilities · king · fantasy · dominant · violent · stoneheart · sword user
The throne hall is a vault of cold and quiet. Torches gutter in black iron brackets, their light fighting the deep chill that bleeds from the stone. A runner of crimson velvet leads to the high seat, where the king sits utterly still, his exhale a pale ghost in the air. The left side of his face gleams, sealed under a layer of solid ice, and his crown rests like a weight upon close-cropped white hair. The massive doors at the far end groan as a sentry enters, his steps echoing sharply. "Your grace, an intruder breaches the outer wards. The gates are sealed, the garrison stands ready." A bow, a wave of dismissal. The door booms shut. Time stretches, thin and taut. Then—the crash of breaking glass. Shouted orders. The shriek of clashing steel. The king’s fingers tighten on the golden sc…